


December

by SoDoRoses (FairyChess)



Series: LAOFT Extras [62]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Dead Parents, M/M, Witchcraft, fantasy seasonal depression, past original character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-27
Updated: 2019-08-27
Packaged: 2020-09-27 22:42:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20415496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FairyChess/pseuds/SoDoRoses
Summary: It’s a hard month for all of them.Some things make it worth it, though





	December

**Author's Note:**

> combining these prompts:
> 
> I love LAOFT fic and oneshots! I know you said you take prompts so I was just wondering if I could request one. I love all the moments with Roman and his grandmother, love her so much, but I would love to know more about Roman’s witchy side. We’ve seen a bit of how the other 3 react to his abilities, but not much. What about the other people in the town? Do they know? How much magic can Roman and his Grandmother do? What kind of spells have they done and why? Again love your work so so much! 
> 
> if you’re still taking prompts for Love and Other FairyTales oneshots,, can we see Roman getting into some more Witchy Shenanigans? 
> 
> Can we see some more of Abby? Her childhood, familiar, friendship with Dot, Etc?
> 
> What sort of shenanigans do Abby and Dot get up to? Does Larry ever get involved in them? And how do all of the various parents (or in Larry’s case, grandparent) react? Sorry, I’m just a little caught up in my head with young Dot and Abby 
> 
> all of which were from anons
> 
> and
> 
> “Can we hear about Abby making poor choices as a teenager?” from [@thebluemoo](thebluemoo.tumblr.com) over on tumblr
> 
> i cried like un little bitch writing this tbh

“And you’re sure this will help?” said Mr. Sanders dubiously.

“Well, not for _sure_-sure,” said Roman, hovering his hand over the little people-shaped scraps of fabric. Green, maybe? For growth, since Logan was a Spring. Or would red for energy work better…

“It’s a bit of a crapshoot, using witch magic on Good Neighbors,” said Roman, “Sometimes it works exactly the same, sometimes it doesn’t work at all, sometimes they react weird and all kinds of odd things happen,”

“You’re not selling this very well, buddy,”

“No weird reactions between me and Logan so far,” Roman assured, “Might be because he’s Seelie. Fire and warmth and all,”

Roman was pretty sure it didn’t have anything to do with that, and it was far more likely they were just hopelessly in love, because the little magic he’d done relating to Virgil had worked just fine. But there were some things it was just awkward to say to your boyfriend’s dad, regardless of how long you’d known him.

He got the head sewn together – green, he’d decided. Anybody else he’d have used red, but he got the feeling one for Logan ought to be green.

Speaking of Logan, Roman was trying not to move his arms to much, but Logan suddenly grunted, annoyed, and Roman figured he’d failed.

“Go back to sleep, babe,” said Roman, kissing Logan’s forehead where it was resting on Roman’s shoulder.

“How, precisely,” said Logan gruffly, “Do you believe I can do so when the person functioning as my pillow refuses to sit still?”

“This is for you, you know,”

“And you know I have repeatedly told you it is unnecessary,” said Logan.

“Babe,” said Roman, softly, “It’s like three in the afternoon, and you are _barely_ conscious,”

Logan frowned.

“… shut up,” he muttered.

Logan got anxious about Roman’s lack of self-preservation skills all the time – but Roman was firmly of the belief that Logan’s _blatant_refusal to prioritize his own comfort was _way_ worse.

Logan had always been a little sleepier in the winter, a little slower – but it seemed like the older they got, the _worse_ it got.

None of them had known he was Seelie most of their lives, so the cause hadn’t been obvious. His parents had gotten him a sun lamp a few months ago, and it did seem to be helping, but not near as much as everyone had hoped. A few days into December, and Logan was clearly miserable.

Enter Roman.

He’d brought a few things with him – some bits of blue glass, his bag of loose poppet panels and thread in an assortment of colors, and a little brass sun charm.

But most of the stuff on the coffee table in front of them he’d commandeered from the Sanders house when he got there.

He had a tendency to be much less… _exact_ at magic than Mamaw, which seemed to constantly drive her insane, but if it worked, it worked.

Some straws cut off of their broom, coffee grounds, a few Altoids he’d taken from Logan’s backpack – a shaker of lemon pepper seasoning, a silver permanent marker and an oak twig he’d picked up in their backyard.

Roman continued to cram things into the poppet, sewing as he went so everything fit properly. Logan had moved to lay his head in Roman’s lap so Roman would stop jostling him, and now he was out cold.

Mr. Sanders had gone back to his book, and Roman fell into the rhythm of stitch-and-pull and add a charm and turn the poppet – on and on. He wasn’t sure how long they sat in silence.

And then Roman became aware of someone watching him, and he looked up.

Mr. Sanders was staring, his eyebrows pinched and a strange expression on his face.

“What?” said Roman.

A brief pause, and-

“So many things about your mom make sense now,”

Roman froze.

They all answered his questions, if he asked. Mamaw, Logan’s parents – nobody hid things from him directly.

But hell if they didn’t make it hard to ask. Mamaw, solemn and formal, like she was talking about a dead saint, not her own daughter. Mrs. Sanders who sometimes looked at Roman like she was seeing a ghost. Mr. Sanders was by far the easiest to talk to about it, but was also the most likely to simply change the subject entirely.

None of them had _ever_ brought her up without Roman prompting them.

“Yeah?” he croaked, turning back to the poppet and finishing the stitches on the first leg. “Like what?”

“Dusty, for one,” snorted Mr. Sanders.

“Her familiar,” said Roman.

“I know that _now_,” he said, “But to everybody else it just seemed like Abby carried a little gray mouse around in her jacket pocket for no reason. Oh, you’ve got no idea how many times she got in trouble for that,”

Roman smiled.

“And Dusty herself had so much personality,” Mr. Sanders continued, “And, you know, how many mice do you think I’m around? I thought mice were just _like that_,”

Roman laughed in response, and Mr. Sanders grinned at him.

“Once,” he continued, “Angie Baker – er, Marks, now, the principal’s wife – said something to me in the hall. Don’t even remember what, but it wasn’t very nice,”

He shook his head, still grinning.

“And you know, I was a couple grades ahead of Abby and Dot, I honestly don’t know how they even found out about it. Next thing I know Angie’s running down the hallway screaming her fool head off because your mom somehow got Dusty in her _locker_,”

“Screaming seems a bit of an overreaction,” said Roman.

Mr. Sanders scoffed.

“Oh, you would have thought Dusty was some kind of demon the way Angie Baker carried on about her. She weighed less than an ounce and ate nothing but oats and birdseed, the woman needed to calm down,”

Roman’s face was starting to hurt from how wide he was smiling. He finished the second to last stitch, reaching for the last thing that need to go in – a little folded over square of cloth with a lock of Logan’s hair in it.

“And the braids!” said Mr. Sanders suddenly, startling Roman just a little bit, “Oh, those _must_ have been magic,”

“Braids?” he said.

Mr. Sanders nodded.

“Plain ones, or ones with extra little… strands, I guess, little ribbons and charms and flower clips stuck in them. I don’t think I ever saw her wear the same hairstyle twice,”

“Knot magic,” said Roman, nodding enthusiastically.

“My grandfather thought it was obnoxious,” Mr. Sanders replied, “He used to call your grandma to complain Abby was being ‘improper’ and-”

He laughed out loud.

“- I never understood why he was _surprised_ when May acted like he was nuts. Like May Gage gave a damn what her daughter wore in her hair,”

“He didn’t like her?”

Mr. Sanders winced, and Roman immediately regretted the question.

“My granddad…”

He shook his head.

“Well, just in general, he didn’t really like the fact that my two best friends were girls,”

“That’s…”

Roman trailed off, not sure how to properly communicate “really fucking stupid” politely.

“Ridiculously, obnoxiously archaic?” said Mr. Sanders, which was an admirable contender.

“Definitely,”

“And you know,” he continued, “After that stunt you and May pulled on James a couple months ago, I’m pretty she hexed Pop-pop more than a few times,”

Roman was the one who winced then.

“What?”

Roman finished the last stitch on the poppet, holding it in his hand.

It was bad form to speak ill of the dead, and even worse of your own mother. Worse again, of someone’s dead friend to their face. But it wasn’t like he was going to be _nasty,_ right?

“I just-” he started, before clearing his throat, “I’m not. Super comfortable with hexing people on behalf of others without their permission, is all,”

Mr. Sanders didn’t say anything.

“But that’s just a me thing,” said Roman, “And, you know, I don’t… know her, I guess. She probably had a good reason, or- or maybe you said something that made her figure it was alright, I don’t know the- the situation,”

The silence continued, and Roman could feel himself shrinking under the staring.

“I don’t know,” he finished lamely.

Mr. Sanders made a strange noise then, and Roman looked up, and immediately recoiled.

“Sorry!” he blurted because _great,_ just great, Roman’d been such an asshole he’d made him _cry._

“You’re fine,” Mr. Sanders replied, grinning through shiny eyes as he stood from his chair and crossed the room. Before Roman could really process it, Mr. Sanders had wrapped his arms around Roman’s shoulders, squeezing him just a little too tight. He was just barely shaking.

“God, buddy,” he said wetly, “She’d be so, so proud of you,”

A lump rose in Roman’s throat.

“So proud,” he croaked, “And I am, too. We all are,”

Leaning into the embrace, Roman sniffed. He tried to resist the urge to wipe his eyes on Mr. Sanders shoulder.

Mr. Sander gave a little kiss to the top of Roman’s head, which maybe should have been a little weird, but it didn’t feel weird at all. He pulled back, still smiling that watery smile.

“I’m gonna go make tea,” he said, “Do you want any?”

Roman shook his head, not sure of his voice.

Mr. Sanders gave him one last grin and an affectionate little shake, before letting go and walking from the room.

Letting out a shaky breath, Roman leaned back on the couch.

Looking down, he started at the bright silver gaze looking back at him.

“Hey, Specs,” he said wetly, “How long have you been eavesdropping?”

Logan rolled a little, onto his side, and Roman started running his fingers through Logan’s hair.

“It is hardly eavesdropping when you have the conversation while I am literally in the room,” said Logan softly.

Roman hummed noncommittally.

He held the poppet out.

“One vitality poppet,” said Roman, “For my very favorite Seelie,”

The corner of Logan’s mouth ticked up, his ears turning a little pink. Taking the charm, he sat up, nuzzling his face into Roman’s neck.

“Thank you, dear,” he said, sounding a little exasperated but mostly just fond.

“You’re very welcome,”

Roman wrapped an arm around him, setting his head on top of Logan’s.

He sighed, soft and content, and so very, very happy.

—

Larry sipped his tea, watching them with a small smile.

It was easy to see the way the memory overlapped with the now. If Larry blinked too fast, he saw two toddlers curled up on the living room floor, a December night just like this one. Roman excitedly reciting his latest favorite story and Logan, quiet and tiny and listening with rapt attention. Roman, now, smiling down at Logan – a smile that was exactly the same.

_She did good, Bee,_ he thought. _Better than I believed she could. I wouldn’t change him. Not for anything. I think… I think not even to have you back._

Abby would have pretended to be offended, he suspected – Roman had that exact same scoff.

But really…

Really, Larry thought she would agree.

**Author's Note:**

> you can also find me over at [@tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors](tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors.tumblr.com) over on tumblr!


End file.
